


Until He Sleeps

by shinigami714



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/pseuds/shinigami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the battle approaches Fili does his best to comfort his brother, even as the brunet struggles to control his inner demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until He Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> I took maybe two weeks off writing, and already I feel out of practice.

The caverns beneath Erebor were eerily quiet as Fíli dragged a cloth down the length of one of his blades methodically.  There was a rhythm in it, one stroke, a pause, and then the next.  It went on like that for what felt like hours as he worked his way through all of his blades, polishing them and readying them for battle.  It was only a matter of time before they were at war, and he was no fool.  The wall they’d built was strong, but it would only hold for so long against an army of thousands.

Fíli breathed in deeply, twisting the sword in his hand as he inspected his work.  The low lighting from the lanterns in the room glistened off the steel, and Fíli watched the flames flickering in the reflection.  His gaze faded as he stared at the metal wearily, his mind a scattered mess.  Fíli’s thoughts quickly darkened and his brow lowered as he thought about the changes he’d seen in his uncle over the journey.  There was definitely something wrong.  Thorin wasn’t the same dwarf he remembered from Ered Luin. 

He’d noticed it early on.  Thorin had always been the surly type, a little quieter than some, more brooding than many.  But it had worsened as their journey progressed.  Fíli might have blamed it on poor sleeping conditions, and the perils that they had faced, but even after days of rest Thorin acted unusually rash.  The way he had shouted at some of them, for silly things. Pushed them all on despite Kíli’s injuries.  It was shocking, and disloyal, entirely unlike the Thorin he’d grown to admire.  His uncle would never have left one of them behind, or tried to keep them apart. He knew better than that, he knew one could not be without the other. 

Fíli’s hand tightened around the hilt of his blade as he remembered how close his little brother had come to facing death.  If he had not stayed behind, at Kíli’s side, there was no telling what would have happened.  The brunet could have turned up dead in the canals of Lake Town, his body washed up on shore. Or perhaps he would have gone missing entirely, and Fíli might never have known what happened to Kíli at all. The blond gritted his teeth and wiped at the blade again, continuing to polish the surface despite its shine.

It wasn’t until someone spoke that he looked away from his task towards the shadowy form at the entrance to the room.

“Fíli.” The soft voice pulled him quickly from his thoughts, and Fíli looked into a pair of cautious brown eyes.  It wasn’t an expression he often saw on his brother’s face, and the blond frowned slightly as Kíli walked fully into the room, the low lighting accentuating the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

“Can I…take a moment of your time?”  The hesitance seemed out of place.  Like many of the other dwarves his brother had not been his usual self for many days, not since he’d been shot whilst escaping Thranduil’s kingdom.  He was drawn, his face pale, and his brow still visibly warm from fever.  Fíli could see the faint sheen of sweat beneath his clumped together bangs, and the way his throat tightened uncomfortably when he breathed in too quickly.  Kíli limped slightly, obviously trying to hide how much pain he was still in despite the healing herbs having already sealed his wound.  Fíli wondered if it would ever go away.

“You don’t have to ask Kíli, of course you can,” Fíli reassured him, and he set the blade aside, wringing the cloth between his fingers.  Kíli walked a bit closer, though he stalled for several moments, his hands running along the stone carvings in the wall as he tried to find his words.  Fíli waited, his focus never straying from his brother for a second.  He could tell something was off, in the other dwarf’s movements, his posture, the way his eyes flittered about like he was searching the shadows for enemies.  Fíli’s jaw tensed and his fingers stilled as he finally realized the other dwarf was struggling to control an oncoming anxiety attack. 

Kíli had described it once, but Fíli never quite understood what it must have felt like.  To be out of place, in one’s own body, restless and listless all at once. It was like his very blood was trying to escape out through his pores, and there was the urge to tear at his skin until he could free whatever demons lingered inside his body.  Fíli had seen it escalate that far on only one occasion, and he did not wish to witness it ever again.

“Do you remember,” Kíli muttered, and his gaze lowered, his hand falling from the wall as it clasped his other.  The brunet played with his fingers, picking at his nails as he studied the shadows on the floor.

“When we were children, and I used to climb up on your bed at night, and you’d read me a story?” he whispered.  Fíli smiled fondly at the memory, chuckling under his breath.     

“You’d let me rest against you, and…,” Kíli paused, and it gave the blond a chance to cut in.

“You’d tuck your head in so close sometimes I thought you were trying to make a home there, like one of the field mice in their burrows,” Fíli finished.  He was grinning, his eyes alight with joy, masking the concern he felt inside. Kíli lifted his head, locking gazes with him once more, and the brunet grinned shyly, though he remained stiff despite the happy expression.

Fíli nodded at him in encouragement, silently asking him to keep talking, to keep describing those moments from their past.  Memories helped.  They kept him grounded, kept him focused on something else other than the itch beneath his skin.

“I don’t think I ever made it through a story,” Kíli admitted, rubbing at his arm.  Fíli frowned, taking in the action, sensing that the other dwarf was very close to the edge, closer than he’d initially thought. 

“No,” Fíli said, and he sat back, letting the wall behind him support his body.  He felt tired, and he longed to get a full night’s rest, but he knew such a thing was impossible.  Not with Kíli in desperate need of his support and the threats still lingering just outside the gates.

“You always fell asleep a few pages in, but I still read them to the end anyway,” Fíli muttered, and he looked at his brother wistfully.  The years had gone by quickly.  Not long ago Kíli had been tugging at his pant legs and asking for piggybacks around the stables.  And now he was taller, growing a beard of his own, and about to fight in a war.  Kíli was an adult, they were both adults, though on some days Fíli still saw the frightened eyes of a child looking back at him.  It was one of those days. 

“You did?” Kíli asked, an eyebrow rising in disbelief.   He looked cold, standing alone in the middle of the room, and for a moment Fíli thought he saw a shiver run through his brother’s frame.

“Yeah, just in case,” the blond muttered, his eyes running along Kíli’s form worriedly.  The brunet began dragging a nail over his elbow, scratching unconsciously at a single spot until Fíli saw the skin begin to turn red from abuse.

“I-I didn’t know that,” Kíli spoke softly, so quiet that Fíli had to strain to hear the words.  Kíli’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he looked away, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fingers in his tunic.  He was nearing a breakdown, that much Fíli could tell, and the blond wondered if he should push the other dwarf into revealing his worries.  Kíli was always unpredictable.  Sometimes he reacted harshly to pressure and it was better to let him take his time, but on other occasions…he needed a few guiding words, lest he stew in his thoughts until they got the better of him.  He’d pulled the brunet from the dark depths of his mind on more than one occasion, but the further he fell, the harder it was to bring him back. 

Fíli leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  He was afraid if he moved it might scare the brunet off, and then it would be nearly impossible to find him within the cavernous halls beneath the mountain.  If Kíli wanted to remain hidden, he would, for as long as he meant to. 

Fíli shuddered as he recalled an image he’d rather forget.  Kíli, shaken, crouched into himself, hiding beneath his bed.  Dark eyes blown wide in fear as he clawed at arms that were bloodied and torn apart.  The sight was ingrained in Fíli’s memory, resurfacing whenever he saw a hint of anguish in his brothers brown eyes.  It could easily happen again.  It could be worse if it did.

Fíli was not prepared to take that risk.  He needed the brunet at his side that night, just as much as his brother needed him in return.

“Nadadith, talk to me,” Fíli spoke lowly, his voice gentle and controlled.  He was careful to make sure the words did not sound laced with any intent.  It would take only the slightest inflection in his voice to startle his brother, to have him second guessing himself.  Kíli whipped his head around to look at him, almost fearfully.  His hair clung to his dampened skin, and his eyes were wide and tearful.  He was like a wild animal, skittish and hiding from predators, but he stayed rooted in place, and that gave the blond hope.  Fíli held out his hand, palm up, the gesture warm and welcoming.  It gave the other dwarf a choice. 

Kíli took a step towards him.

“Would you…would you read me a story tonight?” Kíli asked, his eyes focusing on the hand just a few feet away. 

“One last time.” The brunet’s voice broke and Fíli thought his heart might have shattered with it.  Kíli thought they were going to die.  He very well could have been right.

“Kíli,” Fíli whispered, ducking his head so he could look into the other dwarf’s eyes.

“Take my hand,” he said, sternly that time.  Kíli trembled slightly, but took another step forwards, and a moment later he was clutching Fíli’s fingers tightly inside his own.  Fíli hurried to encase his brother’s hand between his palms, and then he set to work, massaging each finger meticulously as he urged the other dwarf to settle.

“I don’t have a book to read from, but I’m sure I can remember one of the tales,” Fíli mentioned.  Kíli nodded and breathed in deeply as his eyelids lowered.  It didn’t take long for the younger dwarf to make his home against Fíli’s chest.  Kíli pressed his head up against his brother’s chin and turned his nose towards the heated skin of the older dwarf’s neck.  He fit there like he always had, his legs curled up beneath him, his face hidden by the loose folds of Fíli’s tunic while he listened to the blond’s soothing voice.  Fíli paused in his retelling occasionally to brush the bangs back from Kíli’s brow, pressing tender kisses along the other dwarf’s hair line before returning to the tale.  It was easier than he thought it might be, the words coming to him as he spoke them, just as they had when he was younger.  He finished with a soft smile, turning to look down at his brother’s face, expecting to find him sleeping as always, but he was not asleep at all.  Instead those dark eyes remained open, staring at nothing in particular.  The blond dragged his knuckles along Kíli’s temple, watching as two thick eyebrows knitted together.  His brother huddled even closer. 

“Please, just one more,” Kíli muttered against his chest.  The brunet’s fingers tightened, and his eyes were moist with unshed tears.  Fíli’s breath caught in his throat, and after a lengthy moment he began speaking again, letting the words of another tale echo throughout the room.  One story became two, and two three, until the night was well on its way to becoming morning.  He told tale after tale, his throat drying, his voice cracking, all the while pretending he could not feel his brother’s tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt.  Even as the sounds of others stirring beneath the mountain reached his ears, he continued, and until his brother slept soundly in the embrace of his arms, he would not stop. 


End file.
